One Small Word
by KindleLyn
Summary: Several months after the concert in Central Park, a chance encounter with Wizard causes August to reconsider his name.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is _not_ the piece I meant to write next, but I'm sure y'all know how that goes. There is just one more chapter of this story coming, and it will include some private time between Lyla and August for those who are interested in that. ;-)**

**Please enjoy ... and I _love _reviews! Let me know what you liked _and_ what I can do better, _pretty __please! _:)**

* * *

August played slow, soft notes on his guitar this afternoon, not wanting or needing to attract an audience. Eyes closed, face bent to the instrument, he brushed his fingers across the strings with careful precision, drawing each note out to perfection. Beneath the music he could hear the flow of humanity slipping around him, some pausing to listen, but, sensing his desire for privacy, they always moved on.

It had taken some time to reassure Louis and Lyla that he would be fine by himself while they took a short walk around the park, that he would be right here waiting for them when they returned. He would be alone for twenty minutes at the most, he told them, and he wanted to be alone, to listen for a while to the familiar music of the streets. He had bitten his tongue over his second argument, knowing it would elicit protest: he wanted them to be alone together. He had seen the joy in Lyla's eyes when she looked at Louis, and the happy triumph shining back at her in Louis's expression. Of course he wanted to be with them, but he also wanted them to be with each other.

The corners of August's mouth turned down slightly when he felt the presence of someone lingering nearby, listening to him play. He kept his eyes closed and played a touch quieter, alert for the sound of footsteps that would either take the spectator away or bring him closer. The hair on the back of August's neck prickled uncomfortably and he was about to open his eyes and look around when a hand closed harshly on his upper arm. August's eyes flew open and he instinctively tried to jerk his arm away. The fingers gripping his arm tightened in response, forcing an involuntary gasp from his throat.

"Well if it isn't August Rush." Wizard's voice was unmistakably familiar and sent chills of fear running down August's spine. "Nice guitar you've got there, son." Wizard stroked the smooth face of the instrument with his free hand, then touched a few fingers to August's jaw. August stiffened against his touch, his eyes dark and wary. Wizard's expression was carefully blank for a moment, then he smiled.

"August," Wizard chuckled, "Don't you have anything to say to the man who taught you everything you know?"

August shook his head once. Inside, he was screaming, desperate for Louis and Lyla to appear, but he was too afraid to speak, too afraid to yell for them. He could feel his heart racing, who knew what Wizard might do?

Wizard jerked August forward, pulling him to his feet. "Come on, kid," he said, "Let's go for a walk."

August braced himself and tried to yank himself free. Wizard turned to face him, his face twisted with barely contained anger. Very deliberately, Wizard pulled August two steps closer until their bodies were almost touching. August forced himself to glare straight up into Wizard's darkened eyes. "No," he managed to say, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

Wizard looked back at him reproachfully, "August, don't you trust me?" he wheedled. "I just want to talk ... catch up. I want to hear about your parents. Come on." Wizard pulled August forward a few steps, draping an arm over the boy's slim shoulders. August's frozen fear thawed out just then; he pulled away ferociously, fighting Wizard's grasp with every ounce of strength in his body. They struggled for what seemed like a very long moment, Wizard unable to drag August away, but August equally unable to escape. Just as he was about to fill his lungs for a good shout, August heard the ice cold voice of his father behind him.

"Take your hands off of my son," Louis growled, each word distinct and forcefully clear. August felt Wizard pause uncertainly, then do as he had been instructed. The instant Wizard's arm lifted from August shoulders, the boy darted to Louis's side. Louis closed a hand over August's shoulder for a moment, then gently pushed the boy behind him. August suddenly found himself wrapped up in another pair of arms. Lyla was kneeling on the sidewalk and pulled him to her chest protectively, lifting his guitar away from him so that she could hold him closer.

"It's okay, August," she murmured into his hair. "It's okay, you're safe now." August threw his arms around her and nodded before looking back towards Louis and Wizard.

Louis stepped forward threateningly, and Wizard backed away at once. "Now, now," Wizard said, "I didn't mean any harm, did I August?" Wizard glanced around Louis at August and Lyla. In response, Louis stepped forward again with a fierce growl of anger, reaching out and shoving Wizard backward. Wizard managed to catch himself before he stumbled to his knees.

"August," Wizard continued, "is this mom and dad? Didn't you tell them about me? About everything I did for you, everything I taught you?"

"He told us about you alrigh'," Louis snarled, stepping between August and Wizard again. "He told us enough to know tha' if I ever see you near him again I'll call the police."

Wizard finally looked Louis in the eye for a moment, then he backed away another few steps. "Alright, alright!" Wizard pleaded, hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I get it. I'll go." He turned away and walked several yards before turning back. "I hear you, August," he called back, "and I miss you." Louis stepped forward again, his expression twisting in rage that even Wizard couldn't ignore. With an apologetic gesture, Wizard scooted away, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walked off.

August watched Wizard retreat for a moment, but then he turned his eyes to Louis. Louis's back was stiff with tension, and August saw the clenched fist hanging by his father's thigh. Even after Wizard had disappeared into the crowd, Louis remained still and hard as granite, not saying anything or even glancing back to check on Lyla and August. After a few long moments, Lyla got to her feet, still holding August to her side.

"Louis," she said softly. There was no response.

Lyla stepped forward hesitantly, then reached out her free hand and gently squeezed Louis's forearm. With a heavy sigh, Louis finally turned to face them, and, though his expression was controlled, his blue eyes sparked with fury. When he turned his gaze towards August, however, the anger in his eyes faded slightly.

"You okay?" Louis asked, putting a hand on August shoulder again. August nodded, and then threw himself at Louis, wrapping his arms fiercely around his father's waist. He held on tighter when the sobs started dragging themselves up his throat, his shoulders shaking violently as the pent-up fear and adrenaline flowed through his body.

"Com' 'ere," Louis murmured, loosening August's grip on his waist long enough to pull the boy up into his arms. August continued to sob as he locked his arms anew around his father's neck and buried his face against Louis's hair. He could feel his father's arms holding him securely, and his mother's hand stroking his hair softly. He hated to cry like this, because he felt safe with them there. He told himself he wasn't afraid, but he couldn't stop the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. August didn't know how long the three of them stood there together before his sobs finally began to slow.

"I'm sorry," August mumbled against the side of Louis's face.

"What on Earth for?" Lyla murmured, her palm rubbing his back gently.

August just shook his head, sobs swelling in his throat again.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Lyla said firmly. She stepped closer to Louis's side, winding one arm around his waist and continuing to soothe August with her free hand.

"Nothin' at all," Louis added, squeezing August a little tighter for a moment. Still unable to speak, August nodded.

Another moment passed in silence before Lyla took a deep breath and said, "Let's go home."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here is that promised conversation between Lyla and August; I hope you enjoy it! **

**Reviews are awesome and much appreciated ... _please_!**

* * *

Lyla brushed a stray curl away from her face as she stared out a window of the apartment she, Louis, and August called home. She glanced at her watch, it had been almost two hours since Louis had gone out, fury still pouring off of him in powerful waves. Lyla's mouth twisted into a frown as she remembered Louis pacing the apartment like a caged lion. Once home, August had quickly fallen asleep on the living room couch, and Lyla had managed to carry him to his bed without waking him. When she had returned from August's bedroom, she had been surprised to see Louis as livid as though he had just been face to face with Wizard, as though he had been restraining his anger for August's sake but couldn't keep a hold of it any longer.

"Lyla," he had said, pausing long enough to look at her apologetically, "I've got t' get outta here." His fingers had clenched into a fist then, his knuckles white from the pressure. She had nodded mutely, but there must have been something other than understanding in her expression, because Louis had suddenly crossed the room between them and closed his hands gently around hers. His blue eyes were pleading for the moment, but they still burned underneath.

"I can't remember ever havin' been so angry before," he explained, "an' I can still feel all the fight bottled up inside of me. I don't want to leave you alone, but, if I don't get my feet moving, I think I might go mad."

She nodded again; she did understand, even if her face didn't show it. "We'll be fine," she had assured him quietly, pulling his hands up to her lips. "Do what you need to do." He moved their hands aside and kissed her quickly, then he unwound his fingers from hers and, with a quick last look at her, he was out the door. From the window, Lyla had watched him bolt out of sight, flying through the surprised crowd, pushing himself faster than she'd ever seen him run before.

Now, looking out the same window, she wondered how far he had gone. How far would he have to go to use up all his fury?

With a sigh, she turned away from the window and stared into the short hall that led to August's room. August hadn't made a sound since she had tucked him under his covers two hours ago, but it was nearly 7:30pm and he hadn't eaten since lunch. Would he want anything for dinner? Would he be able to sleep at all tonight?

Lyla left the window and approached August's door cautiously. She waited for a moment just outside, listening intently, but still no sound emerged from within. Very carefully, she slipped the door open and peeked inside, expecting to see August curled up on his bed. When her eyes fell on the empty bed, her heart leapt in a moment of panic and she pushed the door open swiftly, revealing August sitting on the trunk by the window, gazing out at the setting sun. She took a deep breath of relief into her lungs and wondered if she would ever be able to trust that her son was here to stay.

"August?" she called softly. The boy did not respond. In fact, he showed no indication that he had heard at all. Concerned, Lyla drifted further into the room, leaving the door open behind her. She paused halfway between August and the door, examining his posture and expression minutely. His legs were pulled close to his chest, thin arms wrapped around them, and his chin jutting out to rest across his knees. The set of his face was ... hardened, Lyla determined. Defensive.

"August, what's the matter?" she murmured. She stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. To her intense surprise, he shrugged her hand away reflexively. Her fingers fluttered with their desire to touch him again, but she resisted the impulse and clasped her hands behind her back for a moment. When another minute had passed in silence, she sat down on the trunk beside her son, very careful not to touch him. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes were fixed forward, as though he was staring out the window, but they had the strange blankness of eyes that saw nothing that was before them and everything that was inside. She took a deep breath and adjusted her position slightly, still careful not to touch August, then turned her own gaze to the window. Several minutes passed, and then, without a word, August shifted in Lyla's direction, pressing against her side and resting his head on her shoulder. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

"Are you scared?" she asked gently. August shook his head a little too forcefully. "I am," Lyla whispered. "I was," she added, a little more strongly.

August turned his blue eyes to gaze into hers for a moment. "Me, too," he admitted finally.

"It's okay to be scared," Lyla replied. August nodded into her shoulder. Another prolonged silence passed between them as Lyla stared out the window, remembering the terror that had gripped her when she had seen her son struggling against Wizard that afternoon. She hadn't been able to think or act or even breathe. Thank God for Louis, whose fear had instantly transitioned into the protective anger that had propelled him to August's defense. Now, holding her fearful, fragile son against her side, she began to feel that anger for the first time, the overwhelming, incinerating fury at what Wizard might have done, at what he _had_ done to her child. Now she really understood why Louis had needed to get away, but she didn't have that option - not now.

"I don't want to be afraid," August whispered, breaking the silence. "I don't want to be afraid of him!" He almost spat the words out the second time. Lyla felt a tremor of defiance run through the boy in her arms. It almost broke her heart.

"I know," she murmured. "And you don't have to be. Your Dad and I, we won't let anything happen to you. You know that, don't you, August?"

Lyla was surprised when August suddenly stiffened against her. "I don't want to be called that anymore," he said firmly, though his voice was barely above a whisper. Lyla pulled away from him for a moment to examine his expression curiously. His eyes were fierce and dark, his mouth pressed together tightly in determination.

"August?" she asked, almost managing to mask her astonishment.

"It's the name _he _gave me," August said.

"Evan?" she questioned gently. August shook his head. "What then?" she wondered.

"What would you have called me?" August asked, pushing his head into her shoulder again. It wasn't a question Lyla was prepared to answer.

"I ... I don't know," she admitted. She paused for a moment, then pushed on. "When I was pregnant with you, I never could come up with a name. Once I knew that you were a boy, I thought of calling you Louis ... I didn't know if I'd ever see your dad again. I didn't expect to. Still, that didn't seem quite right." Lyla hesitated again, then took a deep breath and continued.

"Like most girls, I expect, I had names that I'd always thought I would give to my children, but none of them fit. They were the names of the sons of the kind of men I had imagined myself with, but Louis - your father - was like nothing I had ever imagined. Or he was everything I had ever imagined too good to be true. He was so much more alive, so much more real, than my imagination, and so were you. I never could come up with a name that seemed big enough to hold all the love I felt for you, and all the love I felt for your father besides.

"And then you were gone." Lyla almost regretted letting those last five words slip out, but she glanced down at August and he was watching her intently, his eyes clear and soft with curiosity. She tightened her arm around his shoulders before going on.

"All those years I mourned for you," Lyla whispered, "and there certainly wasn't a name big enough to hold all that pain." She paused again as she felt a tear sliding down her cheek. She swallowed hard in an attempt to clear her thickened voice.

"Nor one to express all the joy of finding you at last," Lyla smiled through her tears. "I love you too much to limit you to one small word."

Lyla laughed softly, brushing a stray tear off August's cheek with her fingertips. "A name is just a name, son. It means only what _you_ mean ... to me, to your father, to yourself, and to everyone else you meet along the way."

"Do you think of me as August?" August asked.

"I do," Lyla admitted. "It's who you were when I saw you the first time. August Rush, my amazing, unbelievable, incredible son."

August frowned. "I can't stop thinking of _him_ when I hear that name."

"It didn't bother you before," Lyla said. August shook his head. Lyla sighed. "Wizard isn't the only thing that happened to August Rush," she said softly. "August Rush studied at Julliard, composed and conducted the most beautiful piece of music I have ever heard, and brought his parents together and to him. August made friends, stood up for what he believed in, and acted with tremendous courage and faith.

"And, although we may hate to admit it, Wizard was an inevitable part of the path that brought us together at last. We don't owe him anything, and I will cheerfully rip him to pieces if he ever touches you again," - the ferocity in her voice surprised even Lyla - "but we can be grateful for the part he played in our story, can't we?"

Lyla's eyes locked into August's and he stared back for a long moment before responding. "Maybe," he said. He paused before adding, "Maybe from a distance."

Lyla laughed then, and August soon joined in. Although he tried briefly, he couldn't quite remember the fear that had been eating at him only a short while earlier.

"If Wizard knows what's good for him," Lyla smiled, "he'll keep his distance alright. I might not be strong enough, but your father is willing, able, and probably eager for an excuse to do that man harm." August grinned in response, and, at just that moment, Lyla and August heard the front door open and shut as Louis stepped inside.

"Lyla?" Louis called, his voice floating easily across the apartment. "August?"

Lyla stood up, brushing at the tears still clinging to her jaw. She reached out a hand to her son. "August?" she asked softly. His expression serious, but not afraid, the boy got to his feet and took her hand. He nodded once, sharply.

"August," he said, and then he smiled.

* * *


End file.
